


There'll Be Peace

by take_ninetynine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Non-Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_ninetynine/pseuds/take_ninetynine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean search all around the room for a way out, but crossbeams are falling in front of doors as the fire climbs up the walls. Sam’s starting to cough a little, a low cough in his chest like he’s trying to hide it, but Dean hears it. If they don’t get out soon they won’t be able to get out at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There'll Be Peace

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a dream I had a few nights ago. I tried to summarize said dream for a friend and it started coming out like fan fiction, so I decided to write it.

The demon who started the fire lays dead on the floor in the other room, but there’s no stopping the blaze now. Or at least, some poor bastard who ended up as a meatsuit lays dead on the floor. Who knows where the demon is, but it’s dead too. At least they managed to rid the world of that bastard once and for all before it all went to—what’s a worse place to go to than hell?

Sam and Dean search all around the room for a way out, but crossbeams are falling in front of doors as the fire climbs up the walls. Sam’s starting to cough a little, a low cough in his chest like he’s trying to hide it, but Dean hears it. If they don’t get out soon they won’t be able to get out at all. Dean looks towards the door and tries to find anything he can move, something to shift the debris out of the way, but it’s all burning. Nothing he can get to without setting himself on fire too. This would be the way they’d go out for good, wouldn’t it? Not stabbed in the back or shot in the chest or chewed to bits by a hell hound—they were gonna burn up in hell bitch fire. Like mother, like sons….

Sam coughs harder; he can’t stifle it this time, and it takes him longer to stop. Dean rushes to his brother’s side as he begins to double over, and Dean realizes he’s trying harder and harder to clear his throat too. “Dean—“ Whatever Sam is trying to say is choked off. Dean begins to get frantic. There are no windows, no other doors… if they want to get out they’ll have to kick down a wall or something, before they all burn up and the ceiling collapses on them. He’s desperate at this point as he holds his breath and kicks the wall. His foot makes a dent, but that’s all. It’s hard for him to concentrate with the sound of his brother literally choking to death behind him, but he’s gotta focus. He has to get Sammy out.

Two more solid kicks but all he’s done is break the drywall. It’s not soon enough, and Dean turns just in time to see Sam lying chillingly still on the ground before more crossbeams fall and bring the ceiling down with it, separating him from Sam. “No!” Dean hollers. “Sam!” Ignoring the fire, he tries to drag one of the beams away, but it snaps where the fire has eaten away at it, and Dean throws the useless piece in frustration. Dean coughs, hard, and just before he sinks to his knees he hears a feeble cough in response.

“Sammy come on, you gotta hang on, man…” Dean begs, but he’s not sure what to do. Everything is blazing; there’s nothing he can get a good hold on to move it. “Sammy?”

“Dean…” His voice is weak, but it’s something. “Yeah, I’m here, Sam,” Dean reassures him, but he’s interrupted by his own harsh coughs. Sam’s coughing and choking on the smoke too, but it’s a lot weaker than Dean’s. They’re gonna die here, there’s no way around it.

Something crumbles to ash and shifts just enough that Dean can see Sam through the debris. He’s lying on his back and his eyes are only half-open, but he’s alive. Soot covers his face and clothes, and the ends of his hair look singed. “Sammy I’m—“ The apology doesn’t get past his lips before he can’t breathe again. He sits awkwardly and feels like he wants to collapse, but he wants to stay where he can see Sam.

“Dean, you… you ready?” Sam asks weakly. This is it for the both of them, and they know it. There’s no coming back from this one, no deal, no benevolent angel, no magic. Dean had never asked himself that question. Is he ready? He looks at Sam again and his eyes have closed. The smoke hangs low over them but Sam isn’t coughing anymore. “Sam? Sammy??” There’s no response. Dean closes his eyes tightly, and when he opens them a single tear streams down his face.

Sam’s gone, waiting in heaven for him. There’s nothing else for him here without Sam, even if he did somehow get himself out. Dean’s chest feels so tight it’s impossible to even cough anymore. He takes one last look at his brother lying on the floor. His hands are placed on his chest, the way Dean would always arrange them whenever Sam had been unconscious over the years. When Jake killed him the first time, recovering from getting his soul back… Dean always did that so he’d be more comfortable. _He’s just sleeping,_ Dean told himself then. Maybe that was how he needed to think of it now. It’d be okay. Sam was just sleeping, dreaming his way through his greatest hits in Heaven.

Yeah, Dean realizes, he’s ready.

Just before he passes out, he manages to gasp out two final words:

“Goodnight, Sam.”


End file.
